


over the hills and home we’ll go

by bartsugsy



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 01:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19346437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bartsugsy/pseuds/bartsugsy
Summary: this is a love story three years too late.(aaron leaves emmerdale in january 2016. robert finds him again in 2018.)(a fork in the road au.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to write a cute little au about aaron and robert meeting in a bar and that somehow turned into this. in fairness to myself, it does in fact start in a bar. 
> 
> for a while, this fic was called "the title is just that feeling you get while listening to the blue nile's 'hats' the whole way through", because that (and paul buchanan's 'mid air') are the only things i listened to while writing this. the actual title is taken from the opening song on 'hats', 'over the hillside'.
> 
> dublin is probably the only city outside of my own that i’ve been to many times over and love deeply and so i feel like i can safely describe at least some of it - however i’m still, out of necessity, using some creative license to cover the rest of it, so if you live there … i’m sorry pls excuse. hopefully it’s not too glaring. 
> 
> aaron runs away at the start of january 2016 and doesn’t come back - so as a blanket warning, he really hasn’t had the opportunity or support system in order to deal with his CSA. this fic deals with that in no more detail than the show does, but it does talk about it. also, warning for alcohol abuse.
> 
> hopefully you enjoy something in this mess.

Aaron first sees Robert Sugden again on a cold Tuesday evening in October, while Aaron’s at a bar with another guy.

Aaron’s date is sat on a stool by the bar and Aaron is stood next to him, leaning back against the sticky surface of the counter. The guy is talking a million miles an hour and Aaron has one hand curled up around his own coat sleeve, tugging at it gently. He rubs his other thumb over the rim of his glass and stares down at the bright blue liquid inside. He considers for the fiftieth time why he’s still on a date with someone who felt ok about buying him a frozen blue margarita without even asking.

He looks back up to the man’s eyes, pale green and bright like the ocean and then lower down to his bulky arms and for the fiftieth time he remembers.

The things he’ll sit through to get laid.

The guy - and Aaron honestly can’t even remember his name at this point; Jeremy? Jason? Greg? - the guy is talking about something he saw on the news, orphans or something. He lost Aaron a while ago, but Aaron still nods and tries to look sympathetic. There’s a chance he just looks bored.

The guy doesn’t even seem to have noticed. His eyes are wide open and he hasn’t paused for breath in a good 7 minutes. Suddenly he looks away from Aaron and up at the bartender leaning against the till next to him.

“Another one, yeah? Two more frozen margs please.”

“Mine’s a beer. Thanks.” Aaron says quickly, before the bartender runs off and seals Aaron’s sugary cold fate.

“...So a beer and a blue margarita?” The bartender says slowly.

“Oh. Yeah, sorry.” The guy says, looking awkwardly at Aaron. “Sorry, I do this all the time, my friends tell me I do this all the time. Like a bulldozer. I should have asked. Do you not like tequila? I always figure it’s universal but-”

“Prefer beer.” Aaron says, cutting him off.

Aaron didn’t even know they _sold_ cocktails here.

“Beer bloats me out so much. Every time. Sorry - I should have asked. Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Aaron says quietly.

There’s a small pause and the guy seems a little unsure. Aaron remembers suddenly that he is actually trying to accomplish something here and so he flashes the guy a smile. The guy takes this as a cue to keep talking and Aaron picks up his frozen blue margarita and takes a sugary sip, feels his mouth contort a little at the taste.

The guy breaks off from whatever he was saying (something about the destruction of a village he’s never even heard of) and smiles. It’s a nice smile.

“You really don’t like those, huh?”

Aaron shakes his head and smiles back.

“They make my teeth hurt.”

The bartender comes back over and puts their drinks down. Aaron grabs at the pint gratefully and takes a swig. The guy grins again and digs his wallet out of his pocket to pay. Aaron smiles back once more, feels a pleasant buzz in the centre of his chest.

“Maybe we should head off instead?” He says lowly. The guy hasn’t stopped smiling.

Aaron takes a final swig and pushes away from the bar. It is as he is waiting for the guy to put his jacket on that Aaron sees him.

Him.

He’s across the other side of the room, walking through one heavy wooden door. His hair is windswept and he’s dressed in about five layers, looking as commonplace and innocuous as anyone could but stopping Aaron’s entire world dead on its axis. He walks in and shatters the protective glass layers Aaron has put up over the years with a perfectly aimed bullet at the epicentre, cracks apart Aaron’s very foundations like a tectonic shift. It’s cataclysmic. No one has noticed anything; there’s nothing _to_ notice, but Aaron feels wrung out and spent, all in the millisecond it takes for Robert Sugden to walk in through the door.

Aaron can only see the side of his face. His heart stutters so hard he’s surprised it hasn’t ripped its way straight out of his chest and flung itself across the room and directly into Robert’s stupid, attractive head.

Aaron freezes, feet nailed to the floor by the sheer force of his own shock.

Robert isn’t looking in his direction at all, instead he’s grinning at the girl he’s with and Aaron has never instantly hated a woman more.  

He hears someone say his name from behind him. The guy.

Aaron shakes himself a little and looks around at his date, who is staring at him expectantly.  

Aaron had left an entire village of people behind years ago - friends and family and Robert, all abandoned in Yorkshire without the slightest clue of where he’d gone. Friends and family and Robert.

His heart is still beating so hard that he thinks it might bruise his ribcage.

Friends. Family. Robert.

 _The Dandelion_ is narrow, but long and Aaron has never been happier about the fact that they keep all three exits open for customers to use. He walks towards the exit on the opposite side of the pub from where Robert is standing  as fast as he can, getting his phone out of his pocket on the way.

“Hey! Hey!” The guy is following him, _yelling_ behind him, drawing attention to them as they leave. Aaron speeds up.

Once they’re outside, Aaron takes a shaky breath in, stares out across the road and at the car park on the other side, the forest behind it blocking the view of the Liffey, quickly evaluates his options.

“I’m just 10 minutes out if you still want…” the guy says, slowly, looking a little perplexed.

Aaron still hasn’t made up his mind, until he hears a far too familiar voice yell his name.

“My car’s over there. I haven’t had much, I’ll drive you.” He says urgently, nodding his head over at the car park, at a car that actually belongs to his neighbour. He’s had the spare key since he gave it a checkup two days ago and hasn’t had the chance yet to give it back. Almost like the universe knew he’d need an escape plan.

The universe doesn’t usually come through for him so solidly. But then the universe has probably also met Robert Sugden. The universe probably gets it.

And Tom-at-number-63 won’t mind walking. Hopefully.

The guy starts to say something, still sounding confused and clearly looking back at a fast approaching Robert and Aaron feels a sudden spike of severe panic in his chest. Aaron refuses to look round, is already crossing the road, racing to the car, opening the door. The guy is still on the other side of the street and Robert has shoved past him already. He’s stopped at the edge of the road. Aaron stares at him for a second. Just a second.

Robert opens his mouth as if to speak and Aaron is suddenly once more aware of his heartbeat again, heavy and violent. Aaron all but throws himself in, starts up the car, swings it into reverse and puts his foot down.   

 

**-**

 

Eventually, well over a year after he had left, Adam had managed to get out of him that he’d moved to Dublin. Aaron had made him swear on everything he loved that he wouldn’t tell a soul - especially not Aaron’s mum.

She’d tried to find him, his mum - she and Robert, for a second there, according to Adam who’d been told as much by Vic. Robert had eventually given up, his mum had tried for a lot longer. She’d stolen Adam’s phone at one point, apparently, looked through their messages, but at that point, Aaron hadn’t said anything to Adam beyond the fact that he was alive. She gave up too, soon after that and restricted herself to just asking Aaron directly in every other text instead.

Aaron had felt guilty, still feels guilty, but better for it remaining a secret. Adam had never broken his promise, or so he says.

But Robert was _here_ \- in Dublin. Not the tourist-packed centre either, but Aaron’s specific tiny part of Dublin.

Aaron gets a message on his phone through Bumble, the guy from the bar asking him about 15 questions he has no intention of answering. No idea how he’d answer them even if he cared to try. Instead, he sends a message to Adam.

 

> _Did you tell him?_

Aaron grabs four beers from the fridge and puts them down on his small kitchen table, opens one and starts necking the thing. His heart is still racing, swollen and painful and suspended in his chest above a cold, anxious, bubbling sensation.

His phone buzzes. Robert’s name flashes up for the twentieth time since Aaron drove off in Tom’s car. He declines the call, realises that he hasn’t actually told Tom about the car and sends a three word text off to him ( _Have your car_ ), drains the last of the bottle.

He’d left Emmerdale almost three years ago. Two years, nine months. It was January, soon after his mum had started seeing his dad again. She’d dumped him a few months later, apparently - sent a bunch of texts to Aaron telling him as much, asking him to come home. He had considered it, really considered it for a few weeks, but Dublin was still just _easier_. Lonelier, but easier. He couldn’t risk it, going back and it all being a lie, an underhanded way of just getting him home. He didn’t really know what to believe or how far he could trust or what was even safe anymore. So he stayed.

He still sporadically speaks to everyone, texts them and sends them happy birthday messages, lets them know he’s ok.

He hasn’t spoken to Robert. No one has given him updates on Robert or even mentioned his name, except for the very occasional pointed message from Vic.

It’s been almost three years.

His phone buzzes again; a message from bumble guy and then almost immediately after, a message from Robert. He’s almost ashamed of how quickly he looks when the name pops up, reads through the message preview instead of actually opening his phone, so that Robert can’t see that he’s read it.

 

> _Hi. I didn’t mean to scare you away. I’m sorry, I just wanted to talk. It’s been a while so I thought it would be nice to catch up. I’ve missed you. Maybe we c..._

The message preview cuts off, Robert’s message apparently too long. As he’s staring at the message trying to work out what to do, his phone buzzes again and another message from Robert pops up.

 

> _I’ve got another business meeting on Thursday but we could meet after that if you’re busy tomorrow? It would be nice to see how you are. Are you working close by?_

Another message follows immediately after, then another, Aaron’s phone steadily alight like a burning beacon.

 

> _Vic always tells me that you’re doing well._
> 
> _I want you to be happy_.

Aaron’s heart is still running its uneven, anxious marathon. He half wonders if Robert’s had his phone nicked. He thinks back to their affair - Robert engaged to Chrissie, forever keeping Aaron at arms length, if he was talking to him at all. The idea of getting a text like “I want you to be happy” back then would have been everything to him. Aaron’s wildest fantasies run amok.

His phone screen times out and goes dark and he immediately reawakens it so that the message notifications are visible again. His insides feel like they’re trapped in a vice, being crushed slowly and agonisingly.

It’s been three years and it barely feels like three days.

He wonders who Robert is now. A man who sends too many text messages, writes things like _I’ve missed you_ and _I want you to be happy_ without following it by an innuendo or direct invitation to sex. Is he still a man who’ll hold someone he thinks he loves at gunpoint? A man so awful that his own brother tries to have him killed? A man who’ll try to kill the people Aaron loves?

No one ever talks to him about Robert.

Vic told him when Robert and Chrissie’s divorce had been finalised - literally had sent him a message with those exact words and not much else. She had once sent a message, early on, that had said _he misses you and you miss him too_. He’d ignored it. One night a few days later he’d gotten drunk and deleted it and then got drunk the night after to try and pretend he didn’t regret it.

He wonders if Robert is working for the Whites again. He wouldn’t put it past him to have weaseled his way back in.

He wonders if Robert is single. If that woman is his girlfriend. Vic had once texted him, about a year ago, the last Robert-related text she had sent him, to tell him that Robert was going on a date. Aaron had deleted that message immediately.

He wonders if Robert still kisses the same way, hungry and needy and all-encompassing, like entire universes could be destroyed in his wake.

His phone buzzes again and he opens another beer, closes his eyes briefly against the instant need to read it. He gives up the pretence and looks over - another Bumble notification.

Annoyed, he opens his phone up, ready to tell the guy to get the hint and leave him alone. He clicks into his messages and his eyes are instantly drawn to the last bubble, the most recent message:

> _You clearly didn’t want to see him but that guy seemed pretty keen on finding out where you were. I threatened to call the police on him for stalking and harassment. Hope you’re ok x_

Aaron pinches his nose, suddenly feeling incredibly tired and overwhelmed. He takes a deep breath - this situation he can deal with.

 

> _Thanks. Sorry things didn’t work out._

He closes the app and stares at his messages, the little notification bubble of unread texts from Robert still waiting for him. He feels a shooting pang deep within his chest and suddenly it’s 2015 again and he doesn’t know how to not get drawn back there.

He opens up the messages, goes to type a response and pauses.

It’s 2018. It’s been years. Years of Aaron hiding away in a different country, refusing to come home to his family or his friends. Or Robert.

He remembers the guy today with the green eyes and the arms and the terrible taste in drinks and then Robert, looking like everything he’s ever dreamed of and telling him things like _I want you to be happy_.

Robert who tried to ruin his life.

He types out _Fuck off._

He presses send and turns his phone off - completely switches it off and then shoves it across to the other side of his kitchen table. He sits in silence until he can’t stand it anymore, rolls his eyes at himself and turns his phone back on so that he can play some music, something fitting to his mood - sad and lonely and hurt and angry all at once.

When he finds himself, two hours and multiple beers later, listening to Bon Iver singing _I can’t make you love me_ for the sixth time in a row, he allows himself to look at his phone messages again. Robert hasn’t responded.

He considers throwing his phone dead across the room but instead just turns the music up louder and tries to ignore the fact that he’s a fucking cliché.


	2. Chapter 2

Aaron is hungover and napping underneath a car - he’s the only one at the garage today and it’s quiet, so he’s managed a solid 40 minutes straight so far. He’s half awake again and considering moving, because sleeping underneath a suspended vehicle isn’t the brightest idea he’s ever had, even in his own personal and vast lexicon of horrible ideas, when he hears a knock against the metal of the open door.

He blinks his eyes open a little more and gently slides himself out towards the weak daylight, only to come face to face with Robert.

Instinctively, he groans.

He really is too hungover for this.

“I tried two other garages in the area before this one.” Robert says, smiling a little, charming and dangerous.

“What would you have done if I wasn’t on shift?” Aaron asks before he can stop himself.

“Tried again tomorrow.”

Aaron nods slightly. The thought of getting up is dizzying to him, but looking up at Robert from ground level is honestly no better so he forces his way through the wave of nausea to hoist himself up to a sitting position.

“I did buy you a coffee. It’s probably cold by now.” Robert waves a red cardboard coffee cup down at him. Aaron ignores it and stands up slowly, then makes his way around to the other side of the car, needing some sort of physical barrier between them.

It doesn’t work because Robert immediately follows him round the car, still smiling a little.

“You don’t know how good it is to see you.” He says, sounding earnest and heartfelt and Aaron is pretty sure this is a fever dream.

“Shame I can't say the same.” Aaron mutters, looking Robert dead in the eye. He hopes he sounds threatening. He’s concerned he might just sound sleepy.

“Fair enough.” Robert says, “But you can’t tell me you don’t want to catch up properly.” He says it the same way he always did, with fifteen different meanings, every single one of them inevitably somehow sexual. “You must want to know what you’ve missed.”

“I still speak to my family. I don’t need you telling me about them.”

The unspoken _the only person I don’t speak to is you_ hangs heavy in the air. Robert bats it away like an inconvenient fly.

“Let me buy you another coffee.”

“Even if I wasn’t at work, I’m pretty sure I’d rather chug that bottle of screenwash, thanks.”

“Come on Aaron, it’s been three years. Come talk to me.” Robert is still smiling, although it’s dropped a little. The almost unfamiliar earnestness is still there in his eyes. It’s unsettling and nice all at once.

“I’m at work Robert. Why are you even here?”

“I told you, I’ve got meetings. I co-own Home James Haulage now. I’ve got a contact out by the port.”

“Right, but that doesn’t explain what you’re doing _here_ . This isn’t the port. This isn’t even Temple Bar, why aren’t you with the rest of the tourists? _Who told you I was here?_ ”

“My client took me out to her favourite pub last night. I swear to you Aaron, I had no idea I’d see you here. None. But that doesn’t mean I’m not glad I did.” His voice softens and he steps forward once more. “I’ve missed you.”

Aaron feels it bone deep, his words, his look, the hand reaching out to touch him. He feels that touch before Robert can even make contact. Another layer of the protective glass guarding his heart falls away, as easy as if it was never there in the first place.

Aaron steps back and out of reach.

“I’ve got work, Robert.”

He says it as roughly and as coldly as he can but the hangover must be even worse than he thought; something in his face must betray him, because Robert just nods, doesn’t look as rejected as Aaron thinks he should.

“I could come back tomorrow,” he says.

“I’m not working tomorrow.”

Robert raises an eyebrow and smiles and Aaron’s a fucking idiot.

Robert leaves without another word. Aaron lasts 27 minutes before he sends the text he had typed out 19 minutes prior.

> _One drink. Tomorrow same place._

Aaron is a Fucking. Idiot.

 

**-**

 

Aaron spends the following morning in bed, wallowing and hungover, watching random old match highlight reels on his phone and chugging from a bottle of coke that’s been sat by his bedside for about two weeks. At some point close to midday, he heaves himself out of bed in search of painkillers and bacon. His phone screen lights up in his hand and a message notification pops up.

A few days ago, Aaron could have ignored a notification for anywhere between 40 minutes to nine hours, depending on the day. He feels his heart in his chest again, annoying and persistent at making itself known. He lasts 30 seconds.

It’s Robert, just as his stupid traitor heart knew it would be.

> _What time am I meeting you tonight?_

He could just ignore it and go about his day. Eat some bacon, play some Fifa, drink some beer. He immediately texts back _7_ and makes his way over to the fridge, phone gripped tightly in his hand.

He feels like he’s slipping and falling - like maybe he could have held onto a ledge somewhere along the way but instead he managed to miss every one, his body hurtling down, limbs flailing, pressed hard against the pressure of the sky but still not stopping.

His phone lights up again as he’s boiling the kettle.

> _I can’t wait. R x_

He can feel his eyes roll in annoyance, but his stupid, stupid heart still doesn’t ease up as much as he wishes it would.

He spends the rest of his day in his house, mostly trying and failing to watch a weird lawyer show on Netflix. He needs milk but he doesn’t want to go out, knows it’s incredibly stupid to be so concerned - it’s not like Robert is going to be hanging around the local SuperValu, waiting for him. Probably. He can feel his eyes drifting to the time on his phone over and over. An anxious feeling bubbles in his stomach that he tries to drown out with a beer, then another beer.

He pointedly waits until 6.30pm to shower, wants to take his time getting ready without actually putting any effort in. Still, he can feel himself spending too long on his hair, shifting strands from place to place erroneously, as if it even matters. He stares at his aftershave, innocently waiting by his bathroom sink, for a solid five minutes before picking it up and using it, hating himself just a little.

He tells himself it’s nothing he wouldn’t do otherwise. Isn’t there some stupid rule about what’s allowed when you’re meeting an ex? It’s this thought that makes him put his earphones in, turn up the volume and take a quick swig from the bottle of cheap whiskey sitting on his kitchen table. The burn down his throat and the loud and angry music in his ear is just enough to push him out of the front door.

As he starts walking up the street, he sees Tom-from-number-63 out of the corner of his eye, coming out of his house. Immediately and out of nowhere, he feels a strange mixture of relief and guilt.

“Aaron!”

Aaron turns around to face Tom, already making an awkward face.

“Sorry….”

“Ya tosser, it was pissing it down the other night,” Tom says as he reaches him, sounding inexplicably good natured as ever. “Last mechanic I knew who tried to steal me car had both his arms broken.”

“Look, next bit of work it needs is on me.”

“Too right, you bastard. Have you got my key or will I be needing to break into your house to get it myself and all?”

Aaron digs around in his pocket and pulls out Tom’s car keys. He can feel all his resolve leaving his body, that relief still sinking through him. He glances to his left at the small off-licence further along up the road, immediately envisions himself spending the rest of the night on his sofa with a fresh crate of beers and a microwave burger, milk freshly stocked in the fridge. He feels almost like he’s vibrating, like his body is expending energy he didn’t know he’d been storing up. He blows out a breath and looks back at Tom.

Tom is staring at him with a confused look on his face, as if he’s not sure whether to expect more from Aaron or not. Aaron grimaces out a smile in response and starts to walk away, towards the off-license, everything in him too alight with the open possibilities, the push and pull of sweet temptation on both sides.

Robert is waiting for him.

This was the man who left him in jail, who tied him to a radiator, who tried to kill Paddy. A man who ruined his life over and over, with his smile more sweet and lethal than anything Aaron had ever known. He was addictive, Robert. Aaron could remember it more vividly than anything else in all of the village he’d left behind, how addictive Robert could be. Being around him for even five minutes made Aaron feel like every part of him had been set alight, body built from a million matches. If gods existed, Robert would be right up there, ruling over every emotion in the fucking book.

What was he even thinking?

He wanders through the off-licence, keeps having to physically pause as his brain argues against itself - even as he picks up a basket, fills it with microwave food and crisps and drink. He wants to see Robert, touch him, sit before him and just stare at his ridiculous face. It’s an insane desire, he knows, to just want to sit around for hours staring at that face. He picks out more things.  

His phone is vibrating in his pocket. Robert’s probably wondering where he is. It will be at least 15 minutes before Aaron even gets to the pub; will Robert even still be there when he gets there? Maybe that would be better. Maybe Aaron could just have a drink with some of the locals. His heart is still making enough commotion in his chest that it hurts.

Fuck Robert for having this effect on him. It’s been a couple of days and he fucking feels like he’s going _mad_ . Aaron’s life for the past three years has been so quiet, so still. He went to work, he had sex, he ate, he drank, went to work some more, had some more sex; a life as simple as a person could make it. He spoke to the lads at the local pubs, maybe stopped by a bookies for a change of pace. Taught a local lad to play pool one evening, once; he was only about 15 with a mouth like a steam train and he looked lost and Aaron felt like he’d known the kid for years. It almost felt like that spark of _family_ he’d lost years ago. It was almost enough for him. It’s all almost been enough for him.

Four hours later and Aaron is a strong nine beers and three quarters a bottle of Jack down, sitting on his sofa, hoodie soft and stretched around his hands. He thinks about calling Robert; his phone stopped buzzing with texts of _Where are you?_ and missed calls about two hours back. Maybe he should call Robert just to hear his voice. He doesn’t want to hear what he’s got to say but he still very much wants to hear that voice.

He could have gone tonight. Maybe he should have. Maybe it would have been better than this.

Or maybe Aaron’s forgetting why he left in the first place. Maybe Robert should just go back home where he belongs and leave Aaron alone, to his lonely, stupid life. At least people don’t die in Dublin. Not because of Aaron, anyway. People don’t die and people don’t get hurt and people can’t hurt him.

The room is spinning.

Aaron picks up his phone and looks at the chain of messages from Robert, but he can’t focus enough to read any of them properly. He tries to type out his feelings, tries to convey his need for Robert to get on a plane and go home, or to come here and smile at Aaron some more, but it’s like moving through sludge. There’s music playing and Aaron turns it down, then immediately back up because he thinks maybe the louder it is, the less the room will spin. He takes a deep breath in and out. He reaches out clumsily for the half-eaten pizza on the coffee table; accidentally drops it face down onto the sofa and then whacks it onto the floor in disappointment.

His phone buzzes again. It keeps buzzing. He answers the call, but then immediately regrets it and throws his phone across the room. It hits an empty coke can on the windowsill and both the can and the phone tumble down to the floor, knocking against the wall as they fall.

Aaron takes in another deep breath. As he falls asleep, he thinks of Robert and his hands and his smile and the taste of his skin and his eyes and maybe Aaron’s dreams never end well but maybe this is the one time they will.

 

**-**

 

Aaron drags himself into work 35 minutes late. There’s no one around to say anything about it, except for Robert, who is leaning against the Garage wall, coffee in one hand and staring down at the phone held in the other.

Aaron closes his eyes briefly to brace himself and then gets out of his car.

“Thought this place was supposed to open at 9?” Robert says, looking up and directly at Aaron as he approaches the front door.

“Why, your car need looking at?”

“No. I would have bought you a coffee, but after you stood me up last night, I didn’t think you deserved it.”

Robert sounds smug and teasing and Aaron is fragile and weak. He glances back at Robert’s face, smiling at Aaron, apparently entirely undeterred by anything Aaron has said or done so far. Aaron’s insides feel warm. He feels pathetic, like he’s five seconds and a smile away from walking over to Robert and just leaning his entire body weight onto him. He should really have just stayed in bed.

Instead, Aaron just grunts at Robert and turns back around to continue to open up the shop.

He leaves the door open and makes his way in, turning on lights as he goes, beelining straight to the kettle.

“You look terrible,” Robert says from behind him.

“Thanks.”

“Are you ok?” For the first time, Robert sounds a little unsure. Aaron ignores him for a moment, the bubbling noise of the kettle the only thing making any sound. He reaches up into the cupboard above the kitchenette for the box of teabags and the sugar. He starts liberally pouring sugar into his mug, on top of the teabag.

Robert’s voice suddenly rings loudly in his right ear. “Hungover, are we?”

Aaron jumps a little and then turns his head to face Robert, who has apparently snuck up behind him.

“Thought you might have got the message last night. I don’t want to see you.”

“It’s been three years, Aaron. You can’t tell me you’re still-”

The kettle flips off and Aaron shoves Robert to the side to reach it before he even thinks about what he’s doing, cutting Robert’s sentence off midway. Robert’s shoulder feels warm and firm and it takes Aaron a second too long to realise that he hasn’t actually stopped touching Robert yet. He pulls his hand back and lifts the kettle, dunking hot water into his mug carelessly enough that some of it splashes out onto the surface of the kitchenette and onto his sleeve.

Aaron bitterly hopes a few droplets hit Robert too.

He dunks the milk in, swivels the mug around in place of stirring it and immediately takes a large gulp.

He looks up at Robert, who is staring at Aaron’s face and grimacing slightly.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Aaron says, purposefully pushing past Robert again to get to the other side of the garage; he can’t resist. His heart does a stupid little jump as their shoulders slide across one another and Aaron tries desperately to pretend that it doesn’t.

“Nothing that can’t wait. I go back tomorrow.” His voice is a little bit soft and Aaron picks up and puts down three different wrenches out of a sudden need to do something with his hands. “Aaron.”

Aaron takes another sip of his tea and stares up at Robert again. His face looks even better than it did before he left. Is that possible? It doesn’t seem fair. So many times Aaron has been powerless against that smug, stupid face. Aaron raises his eyebrows at Robert, but Robert still says nothing, just stares back at him and it’s like the entire world saturates a little around them. He thinks of every hook up he’s had and none of them compare to Robert with his face and his eyes directly on Aaron.

The phone rings suddenly from the wall and Aaron jumps slightly, sees Robert does too. Aaron glares at it and decides not to answer, instead drains his tea and shoves his mug onto the workbench.

“Get out and let me do some work. I’ll meet you tonight,” he says. He can hear how low his voice is. He can hear his mouth saying words that his brain hasn’t even thought through yet. He can hear Robert’s soft breathing from the other side of the garage, calling to him like a beacon.

Robert smiles. Aaron’s dumb breath hitches a little. He hates his fucking life.

“See you then.”

Robert strides out of the garage, that old familiar cat that got the cream look plastered across his stupid, stupid, stupid face.

“Bye,” Aaron says. The door closes and Aaron boots the fucking car in front of him. He _hates_ his fucking life.


	3. Chapter 3

Aaron finds himself once again leaving his house, having spent too long on his hair and smelling like aftershave. His heart is still beating fast and there’s a buzzing in his stomach; excitement or nerves, he’s not sure. Either way, he tries to pretend he’s not feeling anything at all.

There’s no Tom today to stop him. He remembers Robert’s eyes and the night before, spent alone lying across his sofa, drinking beer, TV left running in the background, playing games on his phone until 4am and he doesn’t really want to be stopped.  

Robert is waiting outside the pub for him, leant against a wall just as he had been this morning. Aaron forces himself to take a slow breath in, feels something cold and anxious rolling around in his stomach.

“Hi,” Robert says. He’s smiling.

Aaron nods and smiles a little back, because he can’t help himself.

They order drinks and sit down before they say another word to each other. Aaron can’t stop looking at Robert; he can feel himself doing it, feels his eyes trail over Robert’s forehead, examine the current length of his hair, sweep down across every feature on his face. Years of empty peace and all he needed was this. It feels like coming out of a drought.

They’re sitting across from one another at a small table and Robert is talking about the haulage business.

“The opportunities in Dublin are massive for us. Besides, I’ve started doing more of the deliveries and out of town meetings. Reckon we might be seeing more of each other.”

“Who says I won’t stand you up again?”

“Well, that’s up to you.” Robert’s voice is dipped low. Voices shouldn’t be able to do the things that Robert’s voice does to Aaron when he speaks like that. Even if most of the actual words he’s says are infuriating.

Aaron wants to lean over the table and envelop himself in Robert. Instead, he panics and changes the subject.

“Are you _sure_ no one told you I was here? Only it seems like an awfully big coincidence.” Aaron says.

“I told you, it’s a Home James thing. Jimmy was actually supposed to come along, but I offered. Hasn’t anyone told you? I’m nice now.”

Honestly, Aaron’s eyes could get tired from all of the eye rolling he’s doing.

“It’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens,” he says, almost but not quite, under his breath.

“I gave a homeless man a fiver yesterday. After you stood me up.” Robert is grinning, has been grinning since Aaron arrived, really.  

“You’re a modern day saint.”

“Well, it worked out alright from where I’m sitting.” Robert’s eyes burn where they move across Aaron’s face and then down. Underneath the sudden spike of adrenaline (that thrill of odd and tempting danger that every conversation with Robert has ever brought with it), it feels a little like he would imagine lying in his old bed would feel - being pulled into something so familiar and so comforting all at once.

Aaron twitches a smile and shakes his head slightly.

“Don’t you ever give it a rest?” He asks. He can still feel his smile, feels it pull wider, his heartbeat puttering along at double speed inside his chest and tugging the edges of that smile up towards his cheeks. He runs his finger across the rim of his glass; the sensation feels like a lynchpin to reality.  
  
“Give me a break, it’s been three years. What am I supposed to say?”

“ _Hi Aaron. How are you Aaron? Nice weather here in Dublin, Aaron._ ” Aaron says, barely even attempting a passable Yorkshire accent.

“You’ve been spending too much time with the locals if that’s all you expect out of a conversation.”

Aaron laughs and sips his beer.

The thing is.

The thing is, Aaron hated Robert. For good reason, when he left Aaron had hated Robert. And maybe time does heal all wounds, but there’s still that small voice in Aaron’s head, clambering through the debris of every memory that drove him out of Emmerdale, pushing to the forefront of his mind every bad, awful thing Robert had done to him, to his family, to everyone.

Talking to Robert now, with the benefit of space and time, all he can feel is the good. He feels happy, almost and isn’t that the most foreign concept Aaron’s heard of in a while? Aaron has spent three long years alone and now Robert has sauntered back in, kicked at the barricades Aaron had built around his heart. It would be so easy to just give in to the tug of it, to the lure of something _more_ than an empty bed, of this man who makes Aaron feel more than any person has ever made Aaron feel, of a little piece of his home and everything that made his life before so much more than his life now.

It would be like taking a small piece of everything he’s been missing for three years and keeping it here, in Dublin, with him. Safe and unbreakable.

But the thing about Robert Sugden is that eventually, if you’re around him for long enough, everything breaks.

He feels that tug of desire again. He pushes back.

“So. No one’s tried to shoot you recently then.”

Robert’s face is a _picture_.

The warm temptation Aaron has been feeling is suddenly muffled by a rush of deep-seated, petty satisfaction at the sight of Robert’s smile slipping slightly off his face. This is another familiar feeling he associates with Robert; one of _winning_ , of getting one over on him whenever he’s reached a new low. It’s satisfying for all of a minute and then empty and sort of sad and still, the _warm_ feelings are there too, plus a small unbidden memory of Aaron’s hands pressing down against a gunshot wound, knees cold on the gravel of the road outside the Woolpack. He ignores all of it and drains his beer.

“Ok, maybe I deserved that,” Robert says. He sounds a little more careful than he used to. Like maybe his words mean a little more.

“Maybe.”

“Look, Aaron.” Robert looks serious, suddenly. He leans forward in his chair. “I’m not the same person I was back then. I mean it.”

Aaron stares at him, unsure of what to say.  

“I know I… I did some messed up things,” Robert continues. He sounds cut open, a little, and it makes Aaron sit up a little straighter in his seat. “To you. To everyone. And I know I didn’t really get the chance to apologise properly before you…. Before you left.”

Aaron is suddenly very aware that they’re sitting in a pub, surrounded by near-strangers; locals that Aaron has known, shared the odd pint with for three years now, but barely knows the names of. Robert is here, talking about some of Aaron’s worst adult memories while the couple next to them clink their pints together, the man letting out a resounding and jovial deep belly-laugh. He’s imagined this moment a million and one times and not once did it ever happen like this.

“It’s fine, Robert,” he says, because he’s not sure what else to say, or if he’s even ready to hear the rest. “I mean, it’s not _fine_ , but… Look, it’s been three years. Can we just talk about something else?”

He thinks for a second he might sound like he’s pleading and maybe he is. Luckily, Robert just lets his smile pick back up a little again and offers to buy them another round. Aaron lets him, slumps back again into his chair a little more.

It’s easy, it turns out, to just talk about everything else _but_ the big stuff. Robert talks a little about Vic and Adam, things Aaron knows about and some things Adam hadn’t mentioned. It doesn’t hurt quite as much as Aaron thought it might. They talk about football, movies Robert has seen but Aaron hasn’t. Aaron spends a solid ten minutes teasing Robert about a weird book he’s reading currently.

Hours pass between their first pint and their sixth. Everything is hazy and Aaron hasn’t stopped laughing at a stupid, infuriating joke Robert makes and in everything, in all the feelings and the nervousness and the sad, sad longing Aaron feels for the life he used to live, Aaron had somehow forgotten about this part. About how talking to Robert was always the easiest thing in the world. How really, if things hadn’t been as they were, if Robert hadn’t been horny and stupidly attractive and sort of _evil_ , they could have been great friends. Aaron’s never had enough friends, really.

He thinks about the warmth of Robert’s hands and the way his face looks when he smiles and he thinks that even an ever-so-slightly kinder, less emotionally erratic Robert would be a dangerous friend to have.

Aaron can feel his heart tucking itself into a sweet blanket of happy warmth, settled and content.

Robert looks at the time and pulls a face.

“I have a flight tomorrow at 10.”

The sudden force of disappointment Aaron feels is almost unbearable.

“Guess you better go then,” he says tonelessly.

Robert is staring at Aaron’s face. Aaron stares back. His heart picks up a little with each second that passes.

“I’m coming back. I mean, we’ve got business here to do and…” Robert swallows a little. “I’m coming back.”

Robert sounds determined, in that way he gets that always only ever meant trouble. Aaron just smiles a little.

“Well, you’ve got my number. For next time,” Aaron says.

Robert is still staring. Aaron just knows he’s going to say something and he very suddenly and violently doesn’t want to hear it. It’s already a lot, knowing that Robert is back. Knowing that Robert is _here_ and they’ve spent the evening talking about Robert’s stupid comic book collection and arguing over their favourite Bond film for the 767th time. Knowing that Robert is leaving and then maybe coming back. There’s an unexpected panic building in his chest.

Aaron feels like he’s experienced more feelings in one day than he has in the past three years combined. He’s fucking exhausted.

He stands up suddenly. The chair he was sitting in topples back on its legs just a little, but doesn’t fall.

“Let me know if you end up here again,” he says. Finally he breaks away from Robert’s eye contact. He feels somehow like there’s been something missed and something gained all at once. He steps away and walks towards the door.

As he gets outside, he feels a tug on his elbow, warmth blossoming out across his arm from the point where Robert’s hand is holding it. God, he’s missed Robert’s hands.

He turns around, stood at the pub entranceway, to look up at Robert’s face. He feels another nudge from the other side of his body and he jumps as a stranger pushes past them both gently to get through the pub door, moving between them, separating them.

The door shuts behind them both gently and all that’s left is the sound of the wind and Robert’s eyes.

Robert smiles suddenly and Aaron instinctively rolls his eyes. That smugness never gets less infuriating, in the best way possible.

“Are you not going to say goodbye?”

Aaron raises his eyebrows.

“Bye, Robert.”

He takes a step back, gently moves his arm out of Robert’s loose grip, feels his heart beating unsteadily, doesn’t bother to stop his smile from deepening.

Just before he turns around, he looks one last time at Robert’s face, happy, the way it would be when it was just the two of them, in the beginning, getting to know each other and unable to stop spending time together. When all Aaron wanted of Robert was everything he could offer and everything else he couldn’t.

“Bye, Aaron.”

Aaron takes in a small breath, turns around and starts the walk back to his house and the walk is lonelier than it’s ever been.

It’s as Aaron gets home that he’s struck by a thought - one he’d apparently neglected to consider, distracted as he was by just the basic presence of Robert Sugden sitting across the table from him.

He opens his phone and types out a message as fast as his thumb can move across the screen.

> _If you tell anyone that you saw me here, you won’t wake up tomorrow._

Robert, as ever in Aaron’s mess of a life, is an unknown element in any one of his plans. He’s good at keeping secrets, too good, but the risk of any Dingle finding out exactly how to get to Aaron is too high for Aaron to bear. Adam has said, over and over, that Gordon had left years ago. Chas had kicked him out a few months after Aaron had left, he knows this. Still it never helps, doesn’t quieten the voice in the back of his mind that says that the second he steps foot back in that village, his Dad will be there, ready to descend upon him, waiting to rebuild their relationship or whatever the fuck.

Going back to Emmerdale could never be a trap, but it always feels like one and even if he knows, heart weak of conviction but just as love-filled as it ever was, that maybe the risk would be worth it, he could never bring himself to do it.

All it would take is one stray word from Robert to the wrong person (to any person) and this protective bubble he’s constructed carefully around himself would shatter completely.

He stares at his phone. Considers texting another, more darkly specific threat.

The screen lights up and Robert’s response appears suddenly.

> _I would never. I swear._

And then another message.

> _You can trust me, Aaron._

Followed by a third.

> _Why would I pass up the opportunity to have you all to myself?_

Aaron lets out a silent, disbelieving laugh on an outward breath.


	4. (Interlude One)

By the time Robert opens his front door, raindrops rolling down his neck and legs still cramped from the flight and then taxi back into Emmerdale, he thinks he might finally have come back down to earth a little.

Three long years without Aaron, knowing nothing beyond ‘he’s alive’ and ‘he’s not coming back’ and he just stumbles across him at a business meeting in Dublin. Robert has, in many ways throughout his life, fought tooth and nail to be as lucky as he has been, to survive and come out if not stronger then at least still kicking, but never before has he felt quite so thoroughly like he’d just _lucked out_.

He thinks about the thousands of pounds he’d spent trying and failing to track down Aaron in the first place and immediately the feeling dissipates a little.

Dublin. Aaron was in fucking _Dublin_ this entire time.   

Robert dumps his things at the bottom of the stairs and calls out a greeting to the rest of the house to see if anyone is home. There is only silence and so he grabs some water from the kitchen and then drops down onto the sofa.

His phone makes a noise from his pocket. He fishes it out, thinking of Aaron, feeling like a teenager. Like his whole life revolves around Aaron taking five seconds from his day to acknowledge Robert’s existence.

It’s Vic asking if he’s home. Robert ignores her in favour of opening up his messages with Aaron, feeling a little disappointed, and Robert spares a moment to feel intensely grateful that he didn’t actually have access to a mobile phone as a teenager.

There’s another message from Vic ( _Have you checked in on them yet?_ ). He swipes that notification away immediately.

Aaron’s most recent message arrived earlier that morning, asking him if he’d landed safely, sent in Aaron speak, _are you home_. No punctuation, not even an emoji.

Robert had text back a string of messages complaining about people who recline their chairs in airplanes and the price of airline food. The messages are adorned with a series of double blue ticks.

At least Aaron is reading his messages, Robert thinks. His heart hasn’t stopped juddering warmly along in his chest for the past four days.

He sends off another quick text without thinking too much about it ( _Finally home. I know you told me not to tell anyone, but does that include Adam? I know he knows where you are. He always gives me that stupid look like he’s so pleased that he knows something I don’t. See how long that lasts. Hope you’re doing ok. If you don’t want me to say anything, that’s fine. I’ll just tell them I met a handsome stranger in a pub ;) Rx_ ) and throws his phone onto the sofa.

He pushes himself up and grabs his laptop, opens up his e-mail contacts and starts scouring through them, trying to find anyone he knows who has a base in Dublin.

He gets another text, sees who its from and doesn’t open it, heart knocking against his chest a little harder. Instead he gets back to his list, four solid leads that could give him something to work with. It’s 3pm on a Saturday, but he figures that if he has to work then so should everyone else and calls them all up anyway.

He spends more time on the phone than he expects - doesn’t even find himself minding that much. If he’d spent the majority of 2018 with any sort of life or future plan (he hadn’t), it would have been kicked into pieces four days ago, the second he saw Aaron’s face outside the pub, panicked and still so fucking beautiful. Robert is an empty shell, scraped out, all purpose moved and replaced with Aaron’s name, just Aaron repeating, over and over. If he’d been looking for reasons to leave (and his heart hurts a little at the thought, unbidden)... if he’d been looking for a reason to leave Emmerdale, he’d never find a more perfect one than this.

He considers Emmerdale, just for a second. A part of him will always be here. A very literal part of him, even. He feels out for the guilt, buried in the pit of his stomach and lodged beneath his rib bones, his ever constant companion.

It’s been a year. A year and two weeks.  

One year of feeling little else but fear, honest and abject terror, and that all-too familiar guilt and now finally, _finally_ he has something that feels stronger, almost. Aaron’s face, Aaron’s laugh, Aaron’s terrible jokes. Aaron and the way Robert feels warm, like no love has ever been as good as Aaron’s love.

If he’d been looking for reasons to leave Emmerdale, Aaron would be by far and away top of the list.

Robert, even with all that’s waiting for him now, returned home absent the piece of his fucking heart he left back in Dublin with Aaron.

And so it’s not even an active decision he needs to make, going back. In reality it’s something that was decided for him, four days ago, the second he’d heard Aaron’s name being called across a pub on the outskirts of Dublin city.

 

-

 

Adam walks through the door as Robert is finishing up his last call, shaking a sopping umbrella vigorously, splattering small puddles of rain across the floor.

“You back then?” He says as a greeting.

“Seems that way.”

Even having lived with one another for years, Adam and Robert spend most of their time actively avoiding one another. They keep it civil if Vic’s around and if she’s not they just stay on opposite sides of their tiny cottage.

Robert reflects on how nice this arrangement is as Adam beelines directly to the lounge and sits down on the sofa next to Robert.

“Not interested,” Robert says immediately, moving to stand up before Adam can launch into whatever it is he clearly wants to say. Maybe Vic has sent him. Robert doesn’t want to know.

Adam somehow manages to stand up faster and rounds the sofa, effectively blocking Robert’s exit.

“Ey, hold on Robert. Let’s just get this out of the way before Vic gets back, yeah?”

Robert makes a face. A face that he hopes conveys to Adam that he’s a waste of human space.

“Aaron told me you found him.”

Robert feels his mouth drop open a little. Of course Aaron had immediately text Adam. They were like teenage girls, the pair of them, even with the benefit of three years spent apart.

He immediately decides to mine the situation for everything he can.

“...What did he say?” Robert tries to sound nonchalant, is almost certain he fails spectacularly but can’t find it within himself to really care.

“Nothing really. Just that you were there. I thought you gave up on him years ago.”

“Not sure that’s any of your business.”

“Hey, he’s my best mate. It’s all my business.”

Robert’s heart does a weird push and pull between the quiet hopefulness that Aaron had apparently not divulged any real details to Adam and disappointment that Robert’s clearly not going to be able to get anything useful out of this conversation.

“Did you actually have a point, or are you just trying to keep me from my tea?”

“I just wanted to know how you found him, that’s all,” Adam says. He looks like one of those tiny pissed off dogs with a bone. The really small and annoying ones.

“I didn’t,” Robert says. He can already see Adam trying to argue back. “No, really. I didn’t. Jimmy couldn’t do a trip so I went in his place, stayed to meet with a client and accidentally ran into him. Ask Jimmy yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“What, and have Jimmy getting suspicious?”

“Jimmy couldn’t get suspicious of a wooden spoon. I was there, Aaron was there, we met up a few times, I came home. End of. Are we done?” Robert pushes past Adam and grabs his bags, still sitting messily in a pile by the stairs. “If I wanted a lecture I would have gone to Diane.”

“Yeah, she’s after you and all. Told Vic she wants you to come round tomorrow.”

“Obviously…” Robert doesn’t look at Adam, can feel Adam’s eyes on him all the same.

“Robert-” Adam says and Robert starts up the stairs. Robert rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, but pauses because Adam sounds a little more unsure than before. A little less bullish. “Do you think he’ll come back?”

Robert looks back at Adam and frowns.

“He told me not to talk about seeing him with anyone,” Robert says simply. “I guess he still doesn’t want to be found.”

Adam looks about as sad as Robert feels. It’s amazing to Robert that they can share in the love of so many of the same people and still find it in them hate each other. Although he supposes that that’s probably down to Adam being an annoying prick.

His phone starts ringing suddenly. It’s an Irish number.

“I need to take this,” He says, picking up the phone and moving up to his bedroom. Robert is giving himself a two week deadline to find more business in Dublin and get back there. He half thinks he could just talk Jimmy into letting him move out there to open a Home James Dublin branch. He doesn’t quite have the logistics worked out, but with Nicola staying mostly out of the business, he supposes that if nothing else, he could just get Jimmy drunk and sweet talk him.

His mind is racing around, looping and circling. It’s like a drug, he thinks, seeing Aaron again. There was nothing that had ever been able to stop him from seeing Aaron as often as possible before - even when he was with Chrissie and happy, mostly; that thrill of Aaron was enough to derail even the best of any of his plans. Everything was just another route to a room and privacy and Aaron saying something sarcastic but still looking at him with those big, bright eyes and all of that love. Three years without and it’s all been a waste, Aaron’s hands sweeping through the barren nothingness that’s become of Robert since he left, filling up all the spaces in Robert that he had subconsciously left empty, designed and built only ever for Aaron.

He finishes up on his call, shoots off a few e-mails, unpacks his bags. The entire time all he can see is the softness of Aaron’s hair, the width of his shoulders, the curve of his fucking ear. Every inch of him real and standing in front of Robert just one day ago, right there looking like all Robert has ever actually wanted. Grumbling and pushing at every limit he can reach and smiling sweet as summer and Robert has known, has honestly known since the day he woke up from that fucking coma -

maybe knew before then, even, in some deep and foreign part of him, maybe since the day Aaron stole his car

\- he has known with certainty like nothing else he’s ever known before that he has never and will never love anyone like he loves Aaron.

Robert has spent years trying to fill what he’d been missing - dating, having sex, meeting women, men, anyone with even the slightest spark to them. They’d never made him laugh like Aaron did, never quite understood so thoroughly and saw through his bullshit, never looked at him all eyes wide and knowing, laid bare for Robert to ruin.

All of Robert’s plans and successes are meaningless in the face of Aaron’s very presence in his world.  

His phone buzzes with a text. He looks down.

> _its fine i already told adam. Thought the idiot had cracked and let you know where to find me._

 Robert feels like he’s been strapped to a fairground ride, whole body practically jolting and whirring. He sits down on his bed and types out a message back.

> _Do you know how many favours I burned through with my contacts trying to find you? When I could have just tortured it out of him all along…._

Aaron’s reply comes almost immediately

> _shut up_

Robert sends a smiley face back. He stops himself before he sends a heart emoji, thinks maybe that might be pushing it a little. But then, maybe Aaron secretly _wants_ a heart emoji.

Before he can properly weigh up the choice in his mind, he gets another text.

> _i still cant believe you think majestys secret service is the best bond_

It’s an argument that dates back to one of their earliest ever conversations, back when they’d steal hours away, screwing in Aaron’s bed and the barn and wherever else they could manage. They’ve had it a thousand times over, although not for three years and now twice in two days. It was always Aaron’s go-to icebreaker, an easy way to ease them back into whatever they were doing.

It feels like another olive branch in a series of miraculous olive branches.

Robert’s not sure what he ever did to deserve being this lucky.

> _And I can’t believe you still won’t add me as a friend on facebook. We’ve all got our things we’re dealing with, Aaron._

Again, the response is almost instantaneous.

> _since when were we friends_

Robert lies back against his pillow and settles in. He can feel his grin widen.

> _My mistake. I guess you only discuss Bond with your enemies._

 

> _i dont discuss bond with anyone you just wont stop sharing ur stupid opinions_

 

> _At least I don’t think steak and ketchup is acceptable._

 

> _this is why were not friends on facebook_

 

> _I guess I’m just going to have to try a little harder to be nice then._

 

> _might see hell freeze over first lol_

 

> _I told you. I’m nice now._

 

> _Prove it_

 

> _Maybe when I’m back in Dublin._
> 
> _With you._


	5. Chapter 5

Not that Aaron is at all keeping track, but it’s three weeks between Robert’s first visit to Dublin and his second.

It’s November and all the shops already have their Christmas paraphernalia up, as always. Christmas is, for Aaron, the worst time of year, every year. Christmas is lonely, sitting on his sofa eating whatever microwave meal he’s bought himself, maybe taking one phone call from his mum depending on how much he thinks it will help or hurt.

Usually he waits for a few days and just texts her instead.

At least in England, the pubs are open. Dublin is a ghost town on Christmas Day, everyone tucked up inside in the warmth with families and gifts and something to celebrate. Mostly, all Aaron has is a small pile of DVDs and a single digit countdown to his next birthday and the anniversary of him leaving.

The day before Robert is due back, Aaron bundles through the SuperValu, trying to ignore every Christmas-related sign or item and that familiar ache in the pit of his stomach. Usually he’d maybe just buy a few extra cans, but this year there’s a new and overwhelming little voice in his head, the one reminding him that Robert would be on the same small space of land as Aaron within the next 24 hours.

He sends a text off to Robert and he feels like he’s clinging to a lifeline.

Aaron’s cooking sausages for tea when Robert replies.

> _Plane lands at midday and then I’ve got meetings with possibly the most boring man I’ve ever spoken to in my life. You’re going to need to save me._

Aaron sees the word _need_ and his heart flips over.

> _lets just meet at the dandelion at 7_

And then immediately after, sends a follow up.

> _fuck it lets go to town. you should probably see some of the tourist spots. meet you at the merchants arch at 7_

Robert’s reply comes quick and even in these three weeks of admittedly almost non-stop texts between them, Aaron still hasn’t tired of the sharp thrill he gets when Robert’s name flashes up on his screen.

> _You’re the boss._

 

-

 

Aaron doesn’t brave the city centre very often - it’s filled with people and it’s a ways out and Aaron just doesn’t have much reason to. He forgets how much he loves it. Dublin as a city is warm and friendly and alive with, yes, tourists covering every square inch , but also a quiet buzz of something happy and exciting. Everyone is just there to have a good time and make friends, he supposes.

As he shelves over €6 for a pint and grabs a table at the back of the pub, he looks around. There are groups of people his age and younger, old men gossiping, the man at the front setting up his guitar. He looks outside at the street, the Ha’penny just across the road, crowds of people piling towards Temple Bar for a night on the cobbles.

Robert walks in as Aaron is sitting down. Aaron doesn’t bother to stand back up, just holds up a hand in slow greeting. Robert’s face is split into a grin and Aaron feels a little breathless.

“Hey,” Robert says. His voice sounds like a fucking miracle. Aaron feels very suddenly like he hasn’t spoken to a soul since Robert left, like Robert’s voice has broken through a silence Aaron didn’t know was there.

Aaron smiles back and internally tells himself to get a fucking grip.

“Hey. I hope you like live music because you’re about to hear a lot of it.”

“Yeah, that’s a thing here, isn’t it?”

Aaron shrugs, still smiling. He downs his pint and holds up the empty glass towards Robert.

“Want one?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Again, it’s the easiest thing Aaron has ever done, sitting there with Robert and beer, the man on his guitar playing one of the same six songs they play everywhere in these pubs, strumming along in the background. There’s that undercurrent, too; a buzz of a promise between them. It makes Aaron’s pulse quicken. He feels like he’s on a first date, like he’s meeting Robert for the first time, like he’s spent all day texting his friends about it and pretending not to care how much he wants Robert to like him,

Of course it’s not a first date. Or, maybe it is; the thing about affairs is that dates aren’t really part of the package. But it’s not a first date, initial blush of romance, lips-haven’t-even-touched-yet-but-maybe-our-hands-touched-once kind of a deal.

It’s ‘we know each other more intimately than anyone could imagine but we’ve never eaten a meal together’. It’s ‘I know the feel of his lips but not how his hand would fit in mine’. It’s new and it’s familiar all at once and still the thrill of it alone is enough to send Aaron mad.

Aaron hears Robert’s loud, bright laugh and it’s so suddenly foreign and wonderful to him that it’s almost like he can forget that he’s spent the last week feeling even more desperately lonely than usual. They didn’t do much laughing when they were together, he supposes. Rather it was a revolving pattern of tears, shouting and sex.

They really were a fucking mess.

Robert is joking about his client, most boring man alive Jeff from Dublin. He’s saying something interminably mean and it makes Aaron snort out a laugh so hard that he spills his drink a little. He feels the pleasant buzz of beer floating through his body and Robert’s knee knocking against his under the small wooden table. Aaron presses his knee back without thinking, leaves it there, focuses on the warm thrill in the centre of his ribcage.

At some point the already busy pub fills up even more; someone’s bag knocks Aaron’s drink over and there’s an entire stag do standing behind Robert’s chair, one drunk groomsman carelessly and repeatedly knocking his elbow into Robert’s head in all the loud, boisterous celebrations. Robert looks ready to murder.

Aaron pushes up from the table and nods his head towards the exit. Robert nods a little frantically and practically runs out of the door, Aaron following at a much slower pace and laughing to himself.

He finds Robert standing in the alleyway, on the opposite side of the wall to the pub exit. Aaron stands in the doorway and stares at him, loses track of what they were even doing in the distraction of Robert’s entire body. Crowds of people pass between them, swaying and singing their drunken way up Temple Bar, but it might as well be dead silence for all that Aaron notices them.

Robert’s eyes are locked with his and Aaron’s breath is shallow.

Robert twitches his head, wordlessly telling Aaron to go to him and Aaron, helpless and a little drunk and stupidly in love, pushes his way through the crowds without hesitation. He stops just in front of Robert, feels Robert’s body heat immediately cut through the cold November Dublin air. Their eyes still haven’t broken contact.

Robert smiles soft and warm. Aaron wants to touch every inch of him.

A passer-by stumbles into Aaron’s back, pushing him into Robert, closing the minute distance between them. Robert’s hands automatically come up to catch him, hands wrapping around Aaron’s shoulders lightly. Their chests are pressed together and Aaron wonders if Robert can feel Aaron’s own heart beating, tossing itself furiously against Aaron’s ribcage, ready to give itself over entirely to Robert, as if it wasn’t already his.

In the pit of Aaron’s stomach is a bubbling excitement. He can feel Robert’s breath on his face, Robert’s hands moving down to his waist, nesting themselves in the folds of Aaron’s hoodie. Aaron’s head is upturned. He looks at Robert’s lips, forgets to look away for a few seconds and then Robert is kissing him, warm and hungry.

Aaron’s hands come up to grab at Robert’s hair, tugging gently and then pushing their faces closer together and closer still, until it’s a little uncomfortable. Aaron digs his nose into Robert’s cheek and then moves back slightly, readjusts, moves his hands through Robert’s hair, fingers unpicking through the gel he’s used. He hears Robert moan and it’s like a switch as flipped in him, he pushes forward a little desperately, pressing Robert back into the rough brick wall.

“Get a room!” Someone yells, presumably a passer-by walking through the narrow alleyway. It takes Aaron out of the moment a little and he breaks away from Robert, moves his head back but keeps his body pressed against Robert’s, runs his hands down his body so that they’re practically hugging, warm in the cold of the evening, breaths visible and married together in the air.

Aaron watches Robert’s eyes open slowly and he smiles.

“I want to say that was unexpected, but…”

Robert sounds smug and Aaron is half-convinced that kissing was invented just to keep Robert Sugden from opening his mouth and speaking actual words.

Aaron considers asking him home, or to go anywhere close by, or to just stay here, fuck the crowds. He considers how much he loves seeing Robert’s face from this close a distance. Robert’s hands tighten around him and Aaron hasn’t had a hug in years and suddenly he feels a very real desire to just press his face into Robert and cry. He pulls a sharp breath in and presses in even closer, grips the material of Robert’s jacket, wishes he could reach in and get to his shirt, his skin. Robert is still just looking at him, face looking like the solar system condensed into one infinitesimal group of incredible atoms.

He realises a little belatedly that he hasn’t said anything yet. He clears his throat a little and looks down.

“Aaron…”  
  
Before he can even think about it, Aaron reaches up to kiss him again, soft and quick, but Robert instantly presses back and then they’re both just lost all over again, kissing and pressed together in as many places as possible.

One of Robert’s hands finds its way to Aaron’s neck and as Aaron shifts his weight to press a thigh between Robert’s legs, Robert takes the opportunity to twist them around, pushes Aaron’s left side and then back into the wall.

Aaron, shakes his head slightly and smiles, breaking the kiss a little, but Robert just kisses him again.

At some point, Aaron realises he can’t quite feel his fingers and reaches up to push Robert back by his shoulders. Robert’s forehead rests briefly against Aaron’s and then moves back entirely, taking a step backwards and away, enough that they’re no longer pressed together but not enough to move out of Aaron’s grip on his collar.

“Do you have to work tomorrow?”

Aaron shakes his head, heart racing, thoughts just a cacophony of Robert’s name over and over.

“My hotel is just round the corner.”

It’s a statement and a question and Aaron steps forward to press up against Robert again without even a pause. Robert is already reaching into his pocket, getting the directions up, pulling Aaron’s sleeve down towards the street. The crowds are still busy and tightly packed and Aaron grabs Robert’s hand, keeps their bodies pressed together. It’s still charged but it’s also, so suddenly, so incredibly immediately, become something else. Robert is the weight to Aaron’s balloon, the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth, stopping him from just floating away into space.

 

-

 

The next morning, Aaron wakes underneath an entire blanket of Robert. Aaron kicks the duvet away from his feet, too warm suddenly, trying not to dislodge Robert in the process.

It doesn’t quite work and Robert makes a low noise, moves just enough to press his face into the pillow by Aaron’s head.

A sudden loud beep cuts through the quiet and Aaron jumps, swings his head round to the bedside table where his phone lies, alarm blaring. Aaron reaches out and fumbles to turn it off, then throws it onto the floor.

He’s probably going to be late to work.

He looks over at Robert, who has moved back over to his side of the bed, face still pressed into the pillow. A stripe of sunlight washes over him through a gap in the heavy curtains, the rest of the room still dark. Aaron can feel his heart in his chest, unsure and uneasy but content and full. If he truly holds the full spectrum of human emotions inside of him, Robert is like a firestarter to every one of them.

Aaron’s alarm goes off again and maybe it’s a sign.

Aaron pushes out of the bed, sudden enough that it jolts Robert awake.

“Where are you going?”  
  
He looks beautiful and dangerous as ever; man who tried to ruin his life, man who makes his entire being feel full. Aaron can feel the strings of the safety net he’s built for himself start to snap one by one, not knowing what he might be plunging into.

Aaron thinks suddenly about Emmerdale and he knows he needs to leave.

He grabs his clothes, starts putting them on as quickly as he can. He pauses briefly to look back at Robert and feels another pang of want and fear, goes back to gathering his stuff.

“Got work.”  

“Can I see you once you’re done?” Robert is sitting up in the bed now, looking like maybe he’s going to get up or move closer to Aaron and Aaron just needs to leave.

“Leave me alone, Robert.”

Aaron’s heart is pounding now, he thinks maybe he might cry or yell or throw one of the mugs sitting on the desk at wall just to watch it shatter.

Robert does actually get up now, looking very suddenly concerned, but he’s still naked and so Aaron runs. He presses the buttons on the lifts over and over and then gives up and near enough throws himself down the stairs. He can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket and so he stops, turns it off.

He glances back up the stairs - Robert doesn’t seem to be following. Likely he took one of the lifts Aaron had called earlier. Aaron presses his back against the wall of the stairwell, shivers. He sinks down to sit on the steps and presses his head into his hands. Maybe if he waits long enough, Robert will go back to his hotel room and Aaron won’t have to see him in the lobby on his way out.

Aaron’s not sure how much time passes. He’s acutely aware that he hasn’t actually called into work to say he’d be late and he doesn’t particularly want to turn his phone on to do so. He sighs and pushes himself up to stand, takes a deep breath and then makes his way down the stairs. He makes it out of the stairwell and into the lobby and of course, Robert is right there, glancing between the lifts and the stairs over and over, head moving back and forth like a nodding dog.

Aaron pauses in the open doorway. He looks across to where he knows the street entrance is and then back to Robert, who has now seen him and is approaching him slowly, like Aaron’s a nervous animal.

“ _Aaron._ ”

Aaron’s fear suddenly feels a lot like fury, running white hot in his veins.

“What part of ‘leave me alone’ is so hard to understand?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You just ran out, I’m not even sure what I did.”

“Go home, Robert. This isn’t happening again. _We_ aren’t happening. Are you listening?” Aaron feels himself step forward towards Robert, brain loud with anger in his head.

“Aaron,” Robert says. It’s soft and Robert doesn’t step back.

Somehow this infuriates Aaron even more.  He pushes past Robert, swings around and takes a few steps backwards towards the exit, staring at Robert all the while.

“I don’t want to hear it Robert. I don’t need you _here,_ alright? I left that place for a reason. _I don’t need you here_.”

“If you left because of me-”

“Of course it wasn’t because of _you_ . Not everything is about _you_ , Robert.” Aaron can’t think, the whole world is spinning, he’s untethered himself, he’s being swept away. His heartbeat is the only thing he can hear consistently. Maybe there’s an underlying buzz of noise from the rest of the lobby. Robert is still stood in place. Aaron doesn’t want to be here. He’s not thinking. He just says it, “I don’t want to be here.” He thinks maybe he sounds broken.   
  
“So come home.”   
  
“I _can’t_ , Robert. My mum…,”

He takes a breath. Aaron thinks that maybe he started crying at some point. He takes another step back and knocks into someone - a security guard. Aaron’s not sure how long she’s been standing there. Aaron steps to the side and away, looks back at Robert. Robert opens his mouth, but Aaron cuts him off.

“ _Leave me alone_. I mean it.” He practically growls it. Aaron isn’t sure he can breathe, needs to be outside. He steps backwards again and again, turns around finally and pushes his way past the people, the staring crowd, out the door -

\- and into the bright morning light of Dublin. He pauses for all of a second, wipes a sleeve across his face and then starts the journey back to the garage, sticking his earphones in and turning up his music, loud enough to drown out the thoughts in his head that feel like yelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would just like it known that at no point were they actually supposed to bang in this chapter. robron cannot be tamed, even in fic.


	6. Chapter 6

Aaron gets to work hours late. Steve seems concerned, but Aaron just makes a cup of coffee, turns up the volume on the little radio in the corner of the garage and pops the bonnet on the closest car to him.

It’s exactly what he needs, losing himself in work. Steve chatters along about various inanities, seemingly content about the lack of participation from Aaron. At some point the day comes to an end and Steve leaves for the night. Aaron thinks about home and here, his empty bed, Robert.

He thinks maybe he could stay in the garage, keep working. Maybe he could go to the Dandelion. Maybe Robert would be there, like he’d said. He sighs and goes home. 

He falls asleep before he can even finish his beer. 

 

-

 

Aaron spends the next morning on his sofa, eating crisps and watching old comedy show reruns. There’s an ad for Christmas hampers on tv. He sees neighbours walking past his window and he thinks about his family at home and Robert in Dublin and how empty his living room is. It’s deafening, the emptiness. Oppressive. He checks his phone for maybe the sixtieth time that morning. Still no messages, no notifications. 

He supposes he should be happy that Robert actually listened to him and stayed away. Instead he just feels sad. 

He’s considering finishing the bottle of whiskey that’s sitting across the room from him when he hears the doorbell He glances towards the window, can see Robert standing at his doorstep through the curtains, fingers hovering over the doorbell, ready to press it again. 

Aaron gets up and makes his way round to the front door, opens it without even pausing to think, stares up at Robert’s face and tries to ignore the pang in his chest, absolutely ignores the sudden and insane urge to say ‘I missed you’.

“Robert.” 

“I know you said you wanted to be left alone, but honestly Aaron, you look awful. When I asked for you at work, your boss told me to text him when I got here to let him know you were still alive.” Robert sounds vaguely stricken, but Aaron just rolls his eyes. 

“Better text him then.”   
  
“Or you could invite me in and text him yourself.”

“Did he give you my address?”   
  
“He was worried, Aaron.  _ I’m _ worried.”   
  
Aaron could argue with Robert. Part of him wants to. Mostly though, he simply feels very, very tired.

“Do you want a bacon sandwich?”

“What?”   
  
“Bacon sarnie. Do you want one?”   


Robert glances back over Aaron’s shoulder into the hallway and then looks back towards Aaron.

“Sure.”   


“Great. You can have one as long as you _ stop talking _ .” 

Aaron turns around and walks towards the kitchen, leaving the door open for Robert to enter. He can hear Robert padding behind him, shoes and jacket still on.  Aaron takes a quick glance around the room, knocks aside some empty food containers and half-crushed beer cans to make space for Robert to sit at the small dining table and then goes to the fridge, pulls the bacon out. He hears Robert sit down quietly, can feel Robert’s eyes on his back as he heats up the frying pan.

Aaron finishes up the sandwiches and still Robert has said nothing. There’s the buzz of the tv on low in the background, the sweet chirping of some birds in the garden outside, the whir of the extractor fan and over all of that, absolute silence. Somehow, it’s nothing like the silence of earlier - it’s not oppressive or cold. It’s deliberate and punctuated by Robert’s soft, even breathing and the sound of him shifting his phone across the wood of the table surface, sliding it from hand to hand, eyes still glued to Aaron, like if Robert looked away Aaron would just disappear into nothing.

Maybe he would.

Aaron puts a plate down in front of Robert, clears some space for himself to sit opposite by shoving the rubbish onto the floor in a loud clatter. Robert jumps slightly, looks down at the floor and then back up at Aaron with a raised, judgmental eyebrow, but still says nothing. Aaron shrugs, hoping that Robert understands that his judgement is meaningless. Also, all the bins are full, so where else is it going to go. Aaron just wants to eat his sandwich. 

As they eat, Aaron finds himself tuning in to the sound from the tv. It’s a panel show, or something. Someone makes a joke that startles a snort out of him. Robert immediately looks up at Aaron from his sandwich and huffs out a pleased laugh. He opens his mouth as if to say something, before swiftly closing it again and going back to dipping his crust into the puddle of brown sauce on his plate. Aaron feels himself smile slightly, then stands up and looks at Robert, nods his head towards the living room, leaves without waiting to see if Robert will follow him.

He sits down on the sofa and Robert sits next to him, a sturdy block of warmth. Aaron feels the harsh folds of Robert’s jacket dig into his bare skin and rolls his eyes again. He looks at Robert and tugs lightly on the jacket sleeve. He’s not sure why but he feels reluctant to break the silence - he thinks he’s afraid of what Robert might try to say, or worse, what Aaron himself might try to say. He hopes Robert can hear the unspoken ‘idiot’ in the air.

Robert smiles and takes his jacket off without standing up, throws it carelessly onto the floor and settles back in, legs spread apart wide enough that his knee touches Aaron’s lightly. Aaron thinks back suddenly to the bar in the city centre, their legs pressed together under a too-small table, Robert’s laugh and his eyes looking at Aaron like a drink in a desert. Aaron shuffles down the sofa a little and forces himself to focus on the tv. 

Robert’s chest moves up and down next to him gently, arms resting folded across it. Aaron wants to grab the sleeves of his top and push them up, run his hands up Robert’s forearms and over Robert’s hands. He wants to slump across Robert’s lap and press his nose into Robert’s belly. He can still feel the burn of Robert’s hands from yesterday, the weight of him. A picture of a monkey pops up on the tv screen and Robert laughs quietly. 

Aaron has never felt much about his Dublin flat but this is the warmest it's ever been. 

 

-

 

At some point, one of them breaks the silence. Aaron’s not sure which one of them did it first, but before he knows it, they’re joking about what’s on tv and Robert is gently ribbing Aaron for the mess littering the floors of his flat. 

“Do you actually own a bin?”

“You wanna tidy up, you be my guest.”

Robert pauses for a second, before shoving his feet on top of the piles of newspapers and empty pizza box lying across the coffee table.

“Nah.”

Aaron grins.

There are fake gunshot noises on the tv and Aaron immediately looks up, is about to comment on the character doing a dramatic forward roll across the space between the cover of two cars, but is interrupted by a noise coming from the other end of the sofa.

“Was that your stomach?”   
  
Robert laughs. 

“Do you actually have any food here or are you pretty much living off bad take out?” He says instead of actually answering, kicking the not-quite-empty pizza box his foot is resting on off the coffee table and sending it sliding across the floor.

“There’s beer.”   
  
“You’re a disaster.”

“Shut up.”

Robert stands up suddenly and Aaron feels at once bereft. He can’t go back to the emptiness yet.  He’s too busy staring at the pizza box, half-mad and momentarily wondering if Robert would take the old pizza slice in there, out of desperation to keep him on Aaron’s sofa for just a moment more, that it takes him a second to realise that Robert is still stood next to him, hand extended out.

Aaron  looks at the hand and then up to its owner’s face. He raises an eyebrow.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going to go shopping and I’m going to make us some tea.”

“What?”   
  
“How do you feel about beef?”   
  
“Good?”

“Great.”   
  
“Robert-”

“No need to thank me. While I’m cooking, you can shove some of this shit into a bin bag.” He sounds smug and Aaron wants to let him know that there’s no way that that’s happening, but he thinks maybe he should keep quiet until Robert has started making the food.

“So, shops then?”   
  
“Lead the way.”

At the SuperValu, Robert pushes the cart, grabbing things and commenting on their quality, while Aaron trails behind and watches. Occasionally he sneaks sugary treats in amongst all the vegetables and stock and meat Robert is buying.

“What herbs do you have?”   
  
“Huh?”

“Right.” 

Robert leads them down another aisle and starts suddenly grabbing things with abandon, all the while teasing Aaron about how little he cooks.

“I can make a fry up.” Aaron says.   
  
“I remember.”   
  
“You had it one time.”   
  
“It was a very memorable one time.” 

“Shut up.” Aaron shoves into Robert slightly and Robert grins at him. 

“I’m serious. Best I ever had.”

Aaron gets a quiet pang, the gentle and terrible understanding that none of this is permanent. He buries it quickly, forcibly moves his thoughts away and back towards Robert and his smile and his eyes and his stupid judgmental opinions on bread. 

“Robert, it’s just bread.”

“Who raised you? It’s not ‘just bread’. You’ve never had a good loaf of bread before.”   
  
“Right, well, when you’re done squeezing their entire stock, can we move on? I need to get some more beers.”

Aaron has always run from one end of a supermarket to another, picking up things he sees on a whim, or searching for the things he remembers on his list, running up and down haphazardly to try and get everything. Robert on the other hand seems to insist going aisle by aisle, examining every single thing before he deciding whether to buy it. He had spent ten minutes trying to choose a beef joint. Aaron had happily tuned out on his running commentary about five seconds in and so has no idea what the criteria for the perfect joint is. Instead, he’d just let Robert’s stupid, magical voice wash over him and stared at his left hip bone, imagining how good it would feel to bite into.

Food shopping has never been a great love of Aaron’s, but here’s Robert, making a stupid joke about broccoli and threatening to throw peanuts over Aaron’s living room floor for the rats to take, and Aaron thinks maybe he could grow to love it.

“Maybe we should get some wine?” Robert suggests.

“Sure, you’re the one paying for it. I need to pick up some more beer anyway.”

Robert ignores him, apparently already too engrossed in reading wine labels to respond. Aaron takes the opportunity again to stare at him, before turning away and going to pick up a couple of crates. His heart feels like it's floating in the middle of his chest, light and excited and happy.

 

-

 

When they get back, Robert does actually make him find his bin bags and clear down some of the surfaces and Aaron complies only because he has a personal investment in Robert being able to cook for him. 

Aaron plays some music through his iPhone, chooses songs that are slow but not too sad and Robert doesn’t know any of them but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

Aaron thinks Robert should be wearing an apron, maybe, with no shoes on and Aaron’s t-shirt. He can see it, that future, Robert making them dinner and Aaron providing a running commentary and maybe helping to mix the salad, mostly controlling the music so that Robert doesn’t try to sneak any Taylor Swift in. He opens a beer and tries not to think about all the things he doesn’t want to think about. He opens a beer for Robert too, hands it to him, feels the already-familiar low buzz from the brushing contact of their fingers, deep in the pit of his chest.

Aaron grabs some cutlery and throws it in a pile on the table, then perches himself on the table next to it, feet resting on one of the dining room chairs. Robert turns around and smiles at him. 

“Should be ready in five.”

Aaron nods wordlessly. His chest feels warm and full.

Dinner is delicious and Aaron spends most of his time teasing Robert about it, whilst shovelling it into his mouth. They joke about the TV shows they were watching earlier, about the people in Dublin, about Robert’s boring client. They don’t talk about what happened the last time they were together. 

At some point, Robert starts talking about home. About Emmerdale. Not in a deliberate way - he’s joking about a deal and a stupid text he received from Jimmy. He mentions that he still lives at Vic’s and Aaron can’t help but ask how she is. From there, it’s like the floodgates have opened. 

They joke about how much Adam still hates Robert. Robert talks about what Diane’s doing, the fact that Charity co-owns the pub, who’s come and who has gone and it’s terrible and wonderful all at once. Aaron can’t remember the last time he felt so close to home and he hasn’t even left his tiny dining room. 

At some point, Robert looks at his watch and sighs slightly. 

“You going back tomorrow?” Aaron asks. He’s not sure if his voice betrays how much he cares. He tries not to think about it.

Robert nods.

“I need to go pack.”

“Right.”

They stare at each other and Aaron can hear his heart again. It’s knocking against his chest like an annoying reminder that Robert was naked and beneath him not even two days ago, feeling as warm and real as he ever did. 

Robert looks away first, grimacing and staring at his watch again.

“I really do have to go. This has been nice.”

“Yeah. Uh, thanks for dinner.”

Robert looks at the pile of plates in front of them and grins.

“Guess I’m leaving you to the washing up.”   
  
“Oh, so that’s why you’re running out of here.”

“Obviously.”

They’re smiling at each other again.

Robert stands up very suddenly, looks around for the coat he slung over another dining room chair, grabs it and then makes his way to the front door. Aaron trails behind him like a lost puppy, brain alight with five hundred different ideas of something to say that might get Robert to stay. He shoots them all down and stays quiet.

Robert pauses at the door and finally looks back into Aaron’s eyes.

“I’ll see you.” He says and then he’s gone and Aaron is alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @bartsugsy on tumblr dot com


End file.
